Rise of a Merchant Prince. Raymond E. Feist

Baron’s name, but clearly alerted to trouble by his tone.

      Erik and Roo stood, and the two merchants moved away from their chairs before the fireplace, hugging the wall. The only other person in the room, the swordsman, looked on with interest, but didn’t move.

      The corporal had his sword out, and as Roo made to draw his own, Erik motioned for him to return it to its scabbard. ‘We’re not looking for trouble, Corporal.’

      The corporal said, ‘We heard you’d been hung. I don’t know how you and your scrawny friend escaped, but we’ll soon put that right. Seize them.’

      Roo said, ‘Wait a minute –’

      The men moved quickly, but Erik and Roo were both quicker, and the first two soldiers who laid hands upon them found themselves on the floor, their heads ringing from swift blows. The two merchants spied a pathway past the trouble and beat a hasty exit from the room, running outside into the rain without their hats or coats. The man at the table laughed. ‘Well done!’ he shouted.

      The corporal leveled his sword and thrust, but Erik slipped aside and had him by the wrist before he could react. One of the strongest men Roo had ever seen, Erik also had been trained in barehanded combat, and his iron grip wrung the corporal’s sword from his fingers as he gasped in pain.

      Roo simply thrust with his hand, palm out, fingers extended, and delivered a sharp blow with the heel of his hand upward to the chin of the other standing soldier, who went down in a stunned heap.

      ‘Wait a minute!’ commanded Erik in the voice he had developed as Robert de Loungville’s corporal on their return from Novindus. The other two soldiers, who were slowly standing, hesitated, and Erik shouted his command: ‘Hold, damn you!’

      He released the corporal’s wrist while kicking aside his sword so he couldn’t reach for it easily, then showed that his hands were empty of weapons. ‘I have a paper.’ He reached slowly inside his tunic, removed the document given him the day before by an officer in the office of the Knight-Marshal of Krondor, and handed it to the corporal.

      The man took it and glanced it over. ‘Got the seal of Krondor at the bottom,’ he grudgingly admitted, while still sitting on the floor. Then his eyes lowered as he said, ‘Can’t read.’

      The swordsman stood and with a relaxed air moved to Erik’s side. ‘If I may help, Corporal,’ he said, extending his hand.

      The corporal handed back the document and the man read aloud: ‘Know you by my hand and seal that Erik von Darkmoor is sworn to my service and …’ His eyes glanced to the bottom of the document. ‘It’s a lot of mumbo-jumbo, Corporal. The short of it is you just tried to arrest one of Prince Nicholas’s personal guards. A corporal, like yourself, it says.’

      ‘A fact?’ asked the corporal, his eyes widened.

      ‘Yes, not only is the document signed by the Duke of Krondor’s own Knight-Marshal, the Prince himself signed it.’

      ‘True?’ was the corporal’s next remark as he slowly rose to his feet.

      ‘True,’ answered the stranger. ‘And from the way he took your sword from you, I think there’s a reason he’s in the Prince’s personal service.’

      The corporal rubbed his wrist. ‘Well, perhaps.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But we heard nothing about this, and last time Erik’s name was mentioned it was when we heard he was to be hung for killing the young Baron.’

      Erik sighed. ‘The Prince pardoned us.’

      ‘So you say,’ said the corporal. ‘But I think me and the boys will hurry back to Darkmoor and see what Lord Manfred has to say about this.’

      He picked up his sword and signaled to his men to depart. One of them shook his head in disgust at forgoing a hot meal and the other threw Erik and Roo a black look as he helped the one Roo had stunned back to his feet.

      That man, still trying to focus his eyes, said, ‘We’re leaving? Did we eat? Is it morning?’

      The other said, ‘Shut up, Bluey. A bit of that cutting rain will sort you out, quick like.’

      The soldiers left the inn and Erik turned to the stranger. ‘Thanks.’

      The man shrugged. ‘If I hadn’t read it, the innkeeper or someone else would.’

      Erik said, ‘I’m Erik von Darkmoor.’

      The man took his hand. ‘Duncan Avery.’

      Roo’s eyes widened. Cousin Duncan?’

      The eyes of the man who had named himself Avery narrowed as he studied Roo. After a long moment he said, ‘Rupert?’

      Suddenly they were laughing, and the man Rupert called cousin gave him a quick hug. ‘I haven’t seen you since you were a tadpole, youngster.’ He stepped back and a wry smile graced his features.

      Erik glanced back and forth and couldn’t see even the most remote resemblance. While Roo was short, wiry, and signally unattractive, Duncan Avery was tall, slender, with broad shoulders, and handsome. Moreover, he dressed like a dandy, save for his sword, which was well used and well cared for. He sported a slender mustache, but otherwise was clean-shaven, and his hair hung to his shoulders, where it was cut evenly and curled under.

      Pulling out a chair, Duncan signaled the serving girl to bring his plate and mug over, and sat.

      Erik said, ‘I didn’t know you had a cousin, Roo.’

      Roo’s eyes narrowed. ‘Of course you did.’

      Erik waved away his previous comment. ‘I mean, I know you have a number of them in Salador and elsewhere in the east, but you’ve never mentioned this gentleman before.’

      Duncan thanked the girl and winked at her, causing her to retire with a giggle as he said, ‘I’m crushed, Rupert. What does your friend mean, you’ve never spoken of me?’

      Roo sat back, shaking his head. ‘It’s not like we were close, Duncan. I saw you, what? Three times in my life?’

      Duncan laughed. ‘Something like that. Tried my hand at the teamsters trade when I was a boy,’ he said to Erik. ‘Got as far as riding with Roo’s pa from Ravensburg to Malac’s Cross, where I quit. Roo was no more than five then.’ His face turned somber. ‘Only time I got to meet his ma.’

      ‘When was the last time we saw each other?’ asked Roo.

      Duncan rubbed his chin. ‘Can’t say I remember, save there was that lovely girl at the fountain: slender waist, ample hips and bosom, accommodating attitude … who was she?’

      ‘Gwen,’ supplied Roo. ‘And that must have been four or five years ago.’ Roo pointed a fork at Duncan. ‘You were her first.’ Then he grinned. ‘Many of the local lads owe you some thanks; you imparted a … certain enthusiasm in Gwen that we came to appreciate.’

      Erik laughed. ‘I’m not one of them,’ he said.

      Roo said, ‘Maybe the only boy in Ravensburg who didn’t.’

      ‘How are you related?’ Erik asked Duncan.

      Duncan said, ‘My father is cousin to Roo’s father, Erik, and neither of those worthy gentlemen has much use for me.’ To Roo he said, ‘How is your pa?’

      Roo shrugged. ‘Been a couple of years, really. We’re on our way to Ravensburg now. Where are you headed?’

      ‘I’m for the east, seeking my fortune as usual. I tried my hand doing mercenary duty down in the Vale of Dreams, but the work’s too dangerous, the women too dangerous’ – both Erik and Roo laughed at that – ‘and the money scarce. So I’m for the eastern courts, where a man’s wits stand him as well as his sword.’

      Roo said, ‘I might have some use for that wit.’

      ‘What’s the plan?’ asked Duncan, suddenly interested.